


Angel Food

by Stackthedeck



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Baking, Butch/Femme, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Ineffable Wives, Married Couple, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, butch Aziraphale, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stackthedeck/pseuds/Stackthedeck
Summary: Aziraphale wants to bake an angel food cake. Crowley wants to help. Shenanigans ensue.





	Angel Food

**Author's Note:**

> My other Ineffable wives fic was hit so I thought I'd write another one while binge-watching the Great British Bake Off
> 
> Thank you to @owlgirl155 for beta-reading this fic!

The bookshop is closed and perfectly empty. No customers, demon or angel, insight. There’s a perfect stillness, not even the dust could muster up enough energy to stir. There’s perfect silence, the kind one can only hope for during finals week. 

The perfect silence and stillness are rattled by a shriek.

Above the bookshop, there is a flat with a bedroom, living room and kitchen and all the other necessities of a flat. In the kitchen, Aziraphale is the one shrieking.

“Crowley, I swear on Emily Dickson’s grave if you don’t give that back I’ll-I’ll-I’ll…” Aziraphale lunges for Crowley.

Crowley holds a bowl over her head. Even without her heels, Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to reach it. “You’ll what, angel.”

“I’ll be very crossed with you.” Aziraphale crosses her hands over her chest, fuming.

Crowley almost caves. “I always share my food with you. Can’t I just have a taste?” She lowers the bowl to inspect the contents.

“It’s not food.” Aziraphale lunges for the bowl, snatching it away from Crowley. But it’s too late, her finger is coated with a white substance and Crowley is bringing it to her lips.

“It’s sweet but eggy,” she remarks after sucking her finger clean.

“That’s because it’s eggs and sugar, dear.” Aziraphale sighs, looking at the contents of the bowl. “I was trying to make a meringue but it didn’t work.”

Crowley looks at Aziraphale. She’s dressed like someone’s grandpa (she’s always dressed like someone’s grandpa) but she’s wearing an apron, the kind a grandma wears that makes the grandkids extremely excited for cookies. There’s a whisk on the counter next to a package of flour and sugar.

“Angel, are you cooking?”

“Baking, actually.” Aziraphale throws the bowl in the sink. “Trying and failing to bake.”

“What no!” Crowley cannot have her angel defeated by eggs. “You just need a little update.”

Aziraphale rarely uses anything in her flat, much less the kitchen. It looks brand new but in an old way. The kitchen could have been pulled straight from a 1950s advert, minus the sexism. There’s a fine layer of dust from lack of use but other than that, it’s like a museum.

Crowley snaps her fingers and the countertops are replaced with marble, the wallpaper painted over with the same beige of the bookshop. A new oven and microwave are installed with a five-year warranty (maybe Aziraphale will reheat her cocoa instead of making a new cup). Most importantly there’s a stand mixer.

“Now, what are we making?” Crowley rubs her hands together.

“We?” Aziraphale inspects the kitchen. There are far too many gadgets for her taste, cooking used to be simpler.

“I want to help.” Crowley snaps her fingers and she’s wearing an apron that says ‘kiss the cook’. Aprons are tacky, in Crowley’s opinion, but this dress is too expensive to get dirty.

Aziraphale snaps her fingers and the apron says ‘Assistant cook’. “I’m making angel food cake but, I’d be delighted to have your help, dear.” Aziraphale moves to the counter where there are new eggs.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Crowley’s apron now says ‘kiss the assistant cook’. She points to it with eyebrows raised.

Aziraphale rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. Grabbing the front of the apron, she pulls Crowley into a quick kiss. “Satisfied, dear?”

“Wait, let me change it again.” Crowley grins, wrapping her arms around Aziraphale’s waist.

“No, ma’am.” Aziraphale drags Crowley to the stand mixer. If she lets the demon tempt her, no baking will get done today. “I’ll take care of the eggs. You mix the dry ingredients.”

Crowley reaches for the flour but Aziraphale takes her hands, cupping them gently. Crowley pauses, caught up in the feeling. Aziraphale’s hands are so soft, short nails just barely brushing her knuckles.

“Wash your hands first, dear.” Aziraphale drops Crowley’s hands to point to the sink.

Crowley rolls her eyes, thankfully covered by her sunglasses, saving her from a stern glare and lecture about food safety from Aziraphale. As Crowley is washing her hands, Aziraphale moves behind her. 

“You should pull your hair back while in the kitchen, dear.” Aziraphale combs her fingers through Crowley’s hair. Crowley hums, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch. Having long hair can be troublesome at times, the maintenance takes hours, but it’s all worth it because Aziraphale adores her long hair. All too soon, Crowley’s hair is captured in a ponytail and Aziraphale is heading back to the mixer.

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley says, sounding a little out of it. She touches the end of the ponytail, yearning for Aziraphale’s fingers to tangle in it.

Aziraphale cracks an egg, letting all of the contents fall into a bowl along with some eggshell. She tries to wrangle the egg yolk onto a spoon. After several seconds of trying to capture the egg yolk, she moves it into another bowl and dumps the whites into a measuring cup.

“What are you doing?” Crowley slinks over from where she’s measuring out the dry ingredients.

“I need to separate the egg yolk from the whites.” Aziraphale grabs another egg from the carton. She didn’t look up when Crowley spoke so she’s taken by surprise when the demon wraps herself around Aziraphale.

“Can I show you a trick, angel?” Crowley whispers in Aziraphale’s ear. She had taken a gourmet cooking class because it seemed to be a good place to cause some mischief. Turns out humans get angry when someone is better than them but says that they’re just awful.

Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hands, guiding them through the motion of cracking an egg. “If you keep the yolk in the shell, you don’t have to scoop it out.” Crowley cups Aziraphale’s hand, slowly moving them, juggling the yolk between the shells as egg white leaks into the bowl. “Do you see what I mean?”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale hums, a little distracted by Crowley’s closeness. All the egg whites are in the bowl and the yolk sits still in the shell. Crowley’s hands linger on Aziraphale as she debates grabbing another egg to demonstrate again. 

“I think I have it now, my dear.” Aziraphale slowly moves her hands from Crowley’s grasps and puts the eggshell in the sink. “You are a lovely assistant cook.” She plants a kiss on Crowley’s check before turning her back in the direction of the dry ingredients.

Aziraphale does as Crowley had shown her, getting enough egg white and a little too much shell. She pours the whites into the mixing bowl and carefully turns on the mixer. The machine whirls to life and Aziraphale watches as the egg whites fluff up like clouds.

“Is that what heaven looks like, angel?” Crowley rests her head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Her arms are wrapped around the angel with her hands resting on her chest.

“Heaven is not quite as lovely.” Aziraphale leans her head on Crowley’s. “What are you doing, dear?”

“I finished mixing the dry stuff but I got a little messy.” Crowley steps away from Aziraphale, revealing her hands are covered in flour. Aziraphale inspects herself and finds two handprints on the front of her chest.

“I swear, I married a child.” She rolls her eyes, turning towards Crowley.

“I’m actually older than you, angel.”

“Well, we were both made before the concept of time so, really we’re the same age.”

“Not this again.” Crowley claps her hands over Aziraphale’s head, adding a white dusting to her already pearly hair.

Aziraphale gasps like she’s been shot. “How dare you!” She lunges for the bag of flour and throws a cloud at Crowley’s face.

Crowley coughs and tries to wipe it off but it’s no use. She removes her sunglasses, leaving two perfect circles over her eyes.

“That’s a good look for you, my dear,” Aziraphale chuckles. Her wife’s eyes look especially stunning when contrasted with the white flour.

“Oh, it’s on, angel.” Crowley lunges for the flour and the kitchen disappears in a haze of dusty white.

Eventually, the flour is all used up. Crowley and Aziraphale both look like ghosts. Miraculously, the dry mixture and the beaten eggs are untouched.

“Oh, you wily serpent, look what you’ve done.” Aziraphale motions to all of herself, specifically her suit. “I’ve kept this in pristine condition since Queen Victoria’s wedding.”

“What I’ve done?” Crowley clasps her hand to her chest, a cloud of flour explodes from her. “You threw the first pinch.”

“Only in retaliation, dear.” Aziraphale sticks her nose in the air and crosses her arms over her chest.

Crowley steps towards Aziraphale, her long legs bringing them chest to chest. Her thumb sweeps the flour off Aziraphale’s lips. Crowley is still, waiting for her angel. With only a little huff, Aziraphale rises to her tip-toes to meet Crowley’s lips. It’s a struggle having a tall wife that insists on high heels. Aziraphale forgets her annoyance once her lips met Crowley’s, eyes fluttering shut.

Crowley pulls away, leaning down to rest their foreheads together. “Better, angel?”

Aziraphale looks around the kitchen, it’s spotless and so are they. “Thank you, dear.” she kisses Crowley again before returning to the mixer.

Before long the wet and dry mixture is combined into a batter that is poured into a tube pan. Aziraphale puts the pan in the oven that she forgot to pre-heat but is hot anyway.

“What do we do now?” Crowley is squatted down in front of the oven, already watching for a rise.

“Well, once the cake is finished, it needs to cool in a specific way.” Aziraphale is happily hiding something behind her back.

“Is that so?” Crowley saunters curiously to Aziraphale.

“The recipe recommends putting the tube through a bottle.” Aziraphale presents a french wine with a flourish. “I’ve been saving it since the sixteenth century.”

“Oooh, I love you, angel.” Crowley swoops in and peppers Aziraphale’s face with kisses while she grabs the wine.

After they’ve finished their first glass, Crowley is sitting on the counter and Aziraphale is in between her legs, head resting on her stomach.

“Tell me, angel-” Crowley takes a sip from the bottle, not bothering to refill her glasses. It seems silly with Aziraphale so close “-why bake a cake when you could go out or just miracle one?”

“There’s something satisfying about creating something from scratch with your own two hands.” Aziraphale takes the bottle from Crowley, fingers brushing over Crowley’s forearm. “And it’s even better when someone special.”

“You’re so sappy, it’s embarrassing,” Crowley says, slightly choked up and cheeks hot.

Aziraphale leans her head on Crowley’s thigh, admiring her wife. The flush on Crowley’s brightens. “I forgive you for starting the flour fight, my dear.”

“Oh do you?” Crowley swipes the wine from Aziraphale. “I’m pretty sure that you’re the one that needs to ask for forgiveness.”

“Apology accepted.” Aziraphale grabs back the bottle before Crowley can get a drink.

The rest of the wine vanishes with soft touches and indirect kisses. The top of the bottle is stained with Crowley’s lipsticks and so are Aziraphale’s lips.

Crowley brings the bottle to her mouth but finds it’s empty. “Did you set a timer, angel?”

Aziraphale thinks over the question the same way she does all of Crowley’s questions while they drink. “No.” She walks over to the oven with no hurry.

Aziraphale pulls a perfectly golden brown angel food cake out of the oven. Despite being cooked for an extra half hour, there’s not a bit of it is overdone because Aziraphale expected it to be perfect.

“What do we do while it cools?” Crowley stares at the tube pan hanging upside down on the wine bottle like it’s a work of modern art.

“We need to prepare some cream and fruit to go with it.” Aziraphale opens the fridge and pulls out heavy cream and peaches.

The preparing of the toppings goes much smoother than the making of the cake. Aside from when Crowley spilled all the whipped cream when she caught a glance of Aziraphale eating a peach. She miracled away the mess before Aziraphale noticed.

“How much longer do you think it has to cool?” Aziraphale’s head rests on the counter as she stares at the cake. Crowley wonders if she looks at her that way.

“Not much longer.” Crowley snaps her fingers and the cake is cool and out of the pan. Aziraphale gives her a look that’s almost crossed. Crowley shrugs.

Aziraphale cuts them both a generous slice and Crowley tops both with whipped cream and slices of peach. They take their plates into the living room. A well-worn sofa sits opposite a tv that Crowley brought with her when she moved in.

“What do you want to watch, angel?” Crowley asks despite already knowing the answer.

“The Great British Bake Off.” Aziraphale has never been fond of television but she makes an exception for baked goods and shots of the countryside.

The two place their plates on the coffee table while they settle into the sofa. Aziraphale relaxes into the cushions, the rigid posture she has in public melts away. Crowley spreads herself over the sofa, resting her head on Aziraphale’s chest. She loves how soft her angel is.

Aziraphale takes a bit of the cake, closing her eyes as she savors the taste. Crowley watches the angel’s face while biting her lip.

“How’s it taste?” 

“Try for yourself, dear.” Aziraphale gets a bite on her fork, a perfect balance of cake, peach, and cream. She watches as Crowley’s lips wrap around the fork.

“I think we did good, angel.” Crowley licks a spot of cream of her bottom lip.

“So do I.” Aziraphale kisses Crowley, savoring the taste of her lips just as much as the cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment or kudos, they are so encouraging! If you like ineffable wives I have another fic called Temperance and Temptation that you check out! My tumblr is stackthedeck and I'm posting a lot of Good Omens right now so give me a follow if you like.


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